‘But not in the middle of the night, Uncle Jack,’ William had pointed out.
All the time they were talking. Phoebe stood near the hearth, half turned away from them, as though she was scarcely listening. But, when Jack said that he’d pop in and see Miss Prewett the next time he was in town and ask her if he could borrow the Jonas Lewis book again, she suddenly rounded on them.
‘No!’ she said, vehemently. ‘No, Jack. Listen to you. You promised me that we’d leave all this alone. I want nothing more to do with it.’
She paced away from them, as the children watched her silently, then turned once more. They saw that she had a wild, desperate look. ‘There are too many unexplained things; too many strange events; too many noises. I wish we’d never come here. What possessed us to move to this great big, crumbling house . . .? It needs a fortune spending on it and it’s already taking what little money we’ve got saved just to prop it up.’
‘Well, it was mainly your idea, darling,’ Jack put in, mildly. Then he glanced at the children, obviously not wanting to have this conversation in front of them.
‘Yes, all right,’ Phoebe replied. ‘I know that. I admit it. So, I was wrong. When we came and saw the place, I felt as though I was coming home. Home!’ she laughed, a sad, dry, brittle sound. ‘I hate it here,’ she sobbed. ‘It gets hold of you. Already I hardly see you, Jack. You’re all the time working on the house . . .’
‘I’ll get the builders back,’ Jack cut in.
‘The builders?’ Phoebe cried. ‘This place is costing us a fortune. Oh, what’s the use . . .’ she sighed, and she crossed quickly to the door. ‘For as long as you’re here, children, I don’t want you disappearing off into the forest without telling me where you’re going. I can’t stand any more worry, you hear me? I’ve had enough . . .’ and she fled from the room, banging the door shut after her.
The children looked at the floor. It was horribly embarrassing and none of them knew exactly what to do or say.
‘Oh, dear!’ Jack sighed. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘It’s our fault,’ Mary told him. ‘It was wrong of us to be out so long.’
‘It’s not just that,’ Jack said, shaking his head. ‘It’s all been getting her down a bit. She gets really worried about money. Maybe I should get that book back from Miss Prewett and see if I can’t do a bit of alchemy myself! I could do with a few gold bars!’
‘No, Uncle Jack!’ William cried, earnestly.
‘I was only joking, William!’ Jack said. ‘Don’t tell me you believe in all that rubbish? You’ll have to join up with Phoebe. She’s convinced this place is full of magic and I don’t know what other nonsense.’ He crossed to the door. ‘I’ll just go and . . . try and cheer her up, I suppose. I won’t be a minute,’ and he hurried from the room.
‘Chocolate cupcakes!’ Alice exclaimed, when they were alone. ‘Was that the riot act?’
William whistled and shook his hand as though he’d just burnt it.
‘Oh, William,’ Mary said, ‘you don’t think Uncle Jack was serious about using the alchemy to make himself some gold?’
‘No! I’m sure he wasn’t. I mean – he said himself, he thinks it’s all a load of nonsense.’
‘All the same,’ Mary continued, deep in thought, ‘they’ve obviously come across something.’
‘Mr Tyler said that other people had discovered the secret room,’ Alice whispered. ‘D’you suppose it was Phoebe and Jack and they’re not letting us know? Ooh the liars!’
‘We’d better go up there as soon as we get the chance,’ William declared. ‘There are a lot of things we have to find out.’
10
The Writing on the Mirror
IT WAS A very subdued supper. Jack tried making cheerful conversation, but that only seemed to make matters worse. Nobody was in the mood to talk and what few jokes he attempted fell flat. Phoebe clearly regretted her earlier behaviour but, at the same time, was still cross with the children – probably because they had caused her to lose her temper in the first place. She hardly spoke at all, and when she did it was only to offer second helpings or to ask Jack to bring something to the table. Spot remained curled up in his basket as if he’d decided the wisest thing was to keep his head down and, for the most part, even Stephanie lay quietly sleeping in her cot.
The children were tired after all the exertions of the day. Although they were hungry, they scarcely had the energy or the desire to eat. The backs of their legs ached, all their individual cuts and scratches smarted and they felt embarrassed and uncomfortable in that edgy, oppressive atmosphere that always follows a row.
Towards the end of the meal Stephanie woke and started to cry fretfully. So, as soon as she’d finished eating, Phoebe lifted her from the cot and nursed her, sitting on a chair by the fire. Then, when she couldn’t get the baby to settle, she loosened the top of her dress and bared one of her breasts. After a moment the baby started to suck.
Alice watched this whole procedure with such open-mouthed disbelief that Mary had to kick her under the table. William could feel his cheeks getting scarlet with embarrassment and even Mary wasn’t quite sure where to look and ended up studying the back of her hand with intense interest. The only person who seemed not in the least perturbed was Jack who continued to eat his food as though nothing out-of-the-ordinary was happening.
As soon as supper was finished, Jack and Alice cleared the table and Mary and William started to wash up. The children couldn’t get the job done fast enough and, as soon as the last dish was dried and put away, Mary suggested going to bed. They said hurried goodnights to Jack and Phoebe, avoiding, as much as possible, looking at the naked breast and the contented baby that lay sucking in Phoebe’s arms. Then they escaped from the kitchen and went up to the girl’s room.
‘Sausages!’ Alice groaned, sinking down on to the floor in front of the electric fire. ‘Wasn’t that awful? I just wanted to disappear. When she got her boob out! What did she think she was doing?’
‘Feeding Stephanie, Alice!’ Mary told her, in a superior tone.
‘I know that, Mary,’ Alice answered her back. ‘I’m not entirely stupid, you know. But to just sit there . . . doing it! Ugh! I mean . . . I just happen to think it was the rudest thing I’ve ever seen.’
‘It wasn’t really,’ Mary said. ‘It’s quite natural.’
‘But – not while we’re eating, Mary!’ William protested.
‘Well, that’s decided me,’ Alice said. ‘I’m never going to have a baby. Not ever. The thought of it makes me feel all. . . . Ugh!’ she shuddered and shook her head. ‘Besides, I refuse to have breasts. I think they’re hideous!’
‘Oh, shut up, Alice!’
‘You’re blushing, William!’ Mary giggled.
‘William! You are!’ Alice exclaimed. Then she also started to giggle.
‘Don’t you like talking about women’s breasts, William?’ Mary goaded him. ‘D’you think there’s something a bit . . . sexy about them?’ and she giggled again.
Then Alice jumped up and threw herself at him, chanting: ‘Boobs! Boobs! Will’s got a thing about boobs!’
‘Get off!’ William yelled, and pushing her away he made a dash for the door. ‘I’m going to bed.’
‘But – when are we going up to the secret room?’ Alice asked.
‘In the morning, before the others are up. I’ll set the alarm for six,’ he replied, going across the landing to his own room.
‘William!’ Mary called, following him to the door, ‘you’re not to go on your own. We’ve still got a Solemn Vow about that.’
‘I won’t, I promise,’ her brother told her.
‘He promised before,’ Alice remarked, crouching in front of the electric fire once more. ‘He broke the Solemn Vow last time. I’m not sure he didn’t break it twice.’
‘It’s all right. I’ve brought an alarm as well,’ Mary told her.
‘Well I don’t need one,’ Alice said, loftily. ‘I just tell myself what time I wa
nt to wake up and then I do.’
‘I bet you can’t.’
‘Can. How much d’you bet me?’
‘If you wake up at quarter to six in the morning, and wake me up to prove it, I’ll give you . . . ten p.’
‘Ten p?’ Alice scoffed. ‘It’s worth much more than that.’
But, in the end, it was William who had to wake both the girls the following morning. The sun was streaming in through the window and he said that they should hurry because it was much later than he’d intended.
‘I thought you were going to set your alarm,’ Mary said, pulling on her clothes.
‘I did. But, as soon as it started ringing, I switched it off and went back to sleep. It’s quarter to seven already. Come on,’ and he hurried from the room.
‘You said you were going to set yours as well, Mary,’ Alice reminded her.
‘No I didn’t. You were going to wake me, if you remember.’
‘For ten p?’ Alice exclaimed. ‘Not bloody likely!’
‘Don’t swear, Alice.’
‘It’s not swearing. It comes into that play . . .’
But Mary had already run out of the room and wasn’t listening to her.
The other two were waiting for her inside the hearth when Alice arrived in the hall. As she came down the stairs, William looked up at the gallery to where Jack and Phoebe’s closed bedroom door could just be seen.
‘I wonder what time they get up,’ he whispered.
‘Early, I should think,’ Mary said. ‘Babies need feeding all the time.’
‘Oooh! Don’t remind me, Mare,’ Alice whispered, pulling a face of disgust. Then a thought occurred to her. ‘I’m just going to get Spot’ she said, running back across the hall and opening the kitchen door.
Spot immediately jumped out to greet her. He’d been standing on the other side of the door listening to their movements and had been desperate to join them, but hadn’t wanted to bark in case he woke the others.
‘Right. Let’s go,’ William whispered and, switching on the torch he was carrying, he started to climb up the protruding stone slabs at the side of the hearth. As soon as he reached the ledge, he made quickly for the dark corner and disappeared behind the jutting wall that hid the bottom of the steps. The others followed him, Mary going next and then Alice, with Spot keeping up the rear.
The steps up the chimney were in pitch darkness and William’s torch wasn’t of use to anyone but himself, because they spiralled so steeply and so narrowly that he was always out of sight. Even Mary, who was following closely behind him, could see no more than a faint glow ahead and Alice could only fumble her way upwards, tripping and feeling her way as best she could. When they’d climbed a short distance Spot pushed past her.
‘Let me go ahead,’ he growled, quietly. ‘I can see in the dark.’
‘Lucky thing,’ Alice muttered and then, almost at once, she saw the back of Mary’s legs climbing the stairs in front of her and she smelt the strong, cold, sooty air of the chimney and heard the clatter of William and Mary’s feet on the stone steps and the softer pad of her own paws.
‘Oh!’ she gasped in a whisper, ‘it’s happened, Spot. I’m in you.’
‘Sssh!’ the dog hissed and together they climbed up the steps, seeing the strange opaque shadowy world, filled with vague moving images, that was the only darkness that Spot ever experienced. Rounding yet another turn in the stairs, they came to the wooden door. Mary was holding it open for them and, as they reached her, she looked back:
‘Come on, Alice,’ she called, and feeling Spot’s head in the darkness, she bent down and stroked him.
‘I’m here,’ Alice whispered and, as she did so, she once again saw only the darkness and felt Spot’s body just in front of her.
‘Odd,’ she thought. ‘When I spoke to Mary, I wasn’t in you any more, Spot.’
‘Don’t try and work it out,’ Spot whispered in her head. ‘Just let it happen.’
‘But – how?’ she thought, ‘when I don’t even know what it exactly is that does happen.’
‘Just . . . don’t get in the way,’ Spot whispered. ‘That’s what you humans are always doing; stopping things from happening, by wondering when or how they’re going to. Watch . . .’ he hissed and the next instant she was back, looking through the dog’s eyes, hearing with his ears, feeling with his paws and smelling with his nose.
‘Oh!’ she gasped, it took her so by surprise.
‘See?’ the dog growled quietly.
She didn’t really, but she didn’t want to spoil the experience, so she remained silent.
‘There,’ Spot said in her head, ‘you’re learning. Just say nothing and let the experience take over.’
Alice thought about this for a moment.
‘Like reading a book?’ she asked.
‘How would I know?’ the dog growled.
‘Well, when you’re reading a book and it gets really exciting, you forget about who you are and you sort of are the people you’re reading about. Is it like that?’
‘I don’t know,’ Spot replied, irritably. ‘I’ve never read a book. And, besides, you’re still trying to work out what happens.’
‘Well, of course I am,’ Alice retorted. ‘It is quite unusual for a girl to be able to see through a dog’s eyes and everything, you know. You wait till it happens to you, you’ll know what I’m talking about. I can’t wait for you to be in me when I go to the dentist or something – then you’ll see how odd all this is.’
But Spot merely yawned at the thought and Alice felt her jaw stretch and she lowered her nose and sniffed at the stone step, getting a strong smell of Mary from it.
So they arrived at the top of the spiral and went into the secret room.
‘It’s dark in here,’ William whispered. ‘Funny. There should be light coming from the windows.’
He crossed to where one of the candle sconces with the reflector mirror behind it was fixed to the brick of the chimney breast.
‘I see,’ he muttered to himself, ‘the windows have wooden shutters covering them.’ And, as he spoke, he unfastened an iron latch and pulled open the two halves of dark wood to reveal the circular window, with the sun blazing outside.
‘I don’t remember there being shutters before, do you?’ he asked, as he swung the round window open on its pivot, allowing the morning breeze to blow into the room.
Alice watched Mary walk towards the window. She seemed immensely tall. She leaned with her hands on the bottom of the circular frame and stood on tiptoes to see out. William stepped back at the same moment, to make way for Mary, and inadvertently stood on Alice, making her leap away with a yelp of pain.
‘Sorry, Spot,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t looking where I was treading. Sorry, boy,’ and he fondled Alice behind an ear, which had a rather tickly feel and made her put her head on one side.
‘Now where’s Alice?’ Mary said, sounding cross, as she turned back into the room.
‘You see?’ Spot whispered in Alice’s head. ‘It’s just a matter of letting things happen.’
‘But,’ Alice thought to Spot, ‘what will happen if I reappear? I mean – won’t they see me . . . sort of . . . come out of you?’
‘I don’t know,’ the dog growled. ‘Try it.’
And, as she finished the thought, Alice saw Spot sitting on the floor immediately in front of her.
‘Oh, there you are,’ Mary said. ‘What kept you?’
Alice frowned.
‘Where did I come from?’ she asked.
Both William and Mary stared at her, with puzzled expressions.
‘Well, you asked where I was, Mary,’ Alice insisted. ‘Then you said . . . oh, there you are. All I’m saying is – where do you think I suddenly appeared from?’
Mary shrugged.
‘Up the stairs,’ she replied, sounding bored. ‘Why are you being so mysterious?’
‘You mean you actually saw me come through the door? And cross the room?’ Alice challenged her.
> ‘Of course,’ Mary said, with another shrug. She was now beginning to sound cross.
‘Honestly!’ Alice said. ‘You didn’t see anything of the sort. I was in Spot when I came in. I’ve just now come . . . out of him.’
The other two blinked at her and looked most confused.
‘It’s true, isn’t it Spot?’ Alice insisted.
The dog just remained sitting on the floor, watching her.
‘Do it again then,’ William told her.
‘You’ve got to believe it, if you’re going to see it,’ Alice told him.
‘But, if I don’t believe it – then what would happen?’ her brother asked.
‘I don’t know, do I?’ Alice said, sounding peeved. ‘I don’t know the answers, or how it works or anything. I just know that it . . . somehow happens.’
‘Go on, then,’ Mary was challenging her now, ‘do it again.’
Alice stumped away across the room, feeling cross and frustrated.
‘I’ve told you. I don’t know how to,’ she said. ‘It just . . .’
‘Happens?’ a voice said and Stephen Tyler walked out of the dark corner opposite to the door and over towards them. ‘The difference between magic and science is that magic can’t be put to the test. The problem with science is that relying on proof can cloud one’s perception of the magic that is ever present.’
Then he walked straight past them all, as if he wasn’t aware of their presence, and stood with his back to them, looking out of the window that William had just opened.
‘The secret technique depends entirely on stillness,’ he mused. ‘Yes, that’s it! Before you can warm the quicksilver, you must first of all hold it in one piece. It must not be allowed to run or divide. The nature of Mercury is both heavy and active. Only when it is placed in the crucible can you begin to work on it. But beyond such work . . . is the magic. The work is essential, but it will come to nothing, if the magic is not admitted. And where does the magic come from? That is the great question. The question without an answer. Where does the magic come from?’ He turned slowly and stared thoughtfully at each of them, as if expecting one of them to give him an answer. ‘From the grace of God, perhaps? The scientist finds God an uncomfortable concept because God evades proof. The alchemist, on the other hand, welcomes God into his study, for the alchemist knows that the unanswerable is essential to his art.’ He nodded to himself, seeming to think deeply about what he had just said, then shook his head and sighed. ‘But the unanswerable questions are, nevertheless, hard to endure. So,’ he said, looking at the children again, ‘you’re here. Good. Good. I did think that we shouldn’t meet here. But a man needs his study. I find it difficult to think, let alone materialize, elsewhere. Besides, Morden is away in London. So there is no one to overhear our discourse. Ask your questions now. You, at least, are fortunate. The questions you have will be, for the most part, of the answerable variety.’
The Door In the Tree Page 8
